If Mom Gives a Mouse a Cookie

Often I wonder why I can't get anything done around here. There are several reasons. One of them is that I feel like I have ADHD, or something like that. Maybe I do. But I really think I have a mouse living in my house. It's not just any mouse, it's the one from If You Give a Mouse a Cookie . . . .

My day goes something like this:

If you wake a mouse in the morning, he'll want to snuggle longer. As he snuggles, he'll want to tickle. Once you've started tickling, he'll want to wrestle. As he wrestles, he'll kick the bedcovers off. When you finally start making the bed, he'll remember that it's morning and want to eat breakfast. He'll whine about being hungry until you go downstairs to help him find breakfast.

He'll start off wanting cereal, but after getting the milk and cereal out, he'll see the waffles and want them. Then he'll want a banana to go with the waffle. He'll remember the Curious George book you promised to read him the night before, and will remind you of your promise and insist you read it right away. As you read the book, he'll have to play with Legos, but just as you finish and the phone rings, he'll run upstairs to get his Star Wars toys.

Though you know you need to do some picking up, the buzzer on the dryer will sound, and since this is the third time you've tossed the laundry, you'll go right away to get it folded and hung so you can start drying a new load. Seeing the clean laundry, your mouse will remember he's not wearing his favorite shirt, and will complete undress and change clothes right there in the foyer. While he has his shirt off, he'll want to paint, but after painting a few pieces of paper, he'll be bored, so he'll head outside to play.

Just as you start to pick the clothes off the floor, you see the mail that was moved from the place you put it to remind you to put it in the mailbox to some obscure place (that mouse!), so you'll take the mail out to the box. You'll find the mailman has already delivered, so you take the new mail in to look over. As you bring it in, the mouse will see the latest toy ad, and want to look at it. Then he'll want to plan his birthday party, even though it's not for another eleven months. He'll go to get you a piece of paper and a pen, as you start to pull out stuff for lunch. After lunch he'll want you to read him another book. . . .

OK, you see where this is going. So now I have: an unmade bed, half my pajamas still on, milk, cereal and waffles on the counter with the banana peel, several books laying out, half finished Lego creations and lots of miscellaneous blocks, Star Wars toys, dirty clothes, outgoing mail, incoming mail, a toy ad spread out, a piece of paper and a pen, lunch fixings . . . . Aaarrrggghhh! And the day's less than HALF over! And I have THREE mice! Now do you understand why my house is so hard to keep up after? Please?